


Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something True

by TheBlindBandit



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Day At The Beach, Era 3, F/F, Free Pearls, Homeworld is Horrible, Little Homeschool, Names, Pearl School Which Is For Pearls, Pearl Solidarity (Steven Universe), Pearls Embracing Their Own Interests & Identities (and each other), Welcome to earth, breaking rules, brief flashbacks, typical pearl baggage applies, we've come so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: As Era 3 rolls on, two pairs of Pearls find themselves finding their way on Earth.They also find themselves with a bit of unusual homework assigned during the first lecture of Little Homeworld’s Pearl School, Which Is For Pearls.
Relationships: Original Gem Character(s)/Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42
Collections: Hundreds of Pearls Zine





	Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something True

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Hundreds of Pearls zine](https://hundredsofpearls-zine.tumblr.com/) \- check it out!
> 
> The amazing OCs I got to work with were Wine and Blush created by [huecy](https://huecy.tumblr.com/) and Sandy and Lavender by [outerspace-iiinnerspace](https://outerspace-iiinnerspace.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can see huecy's beautiful illustration of the fic [here](https://huecy.tumblr.com/post/629082258910871552/can-finally-show-this-heres-my-full-piece-for)!

_There is no scrambling for purchase, or a trace of fumbling as the stack of holopads is thrust at her. No, she’s a well-made pearl, and well-practiced in this. The pads are surprisingly cool to the touch, smooth, perfect, and new, and they stay perfectly balanced, screen-up, in her hold._

_“Deliver to Iolite Facet 2 Cut 4B2.”_

_Ah, no new corner of Homeworld to be discovered this time - just the well-trod path up to the laboratories. She knows these hallways and these walls. Waves a small, quick greeting to one, in passing - a frequent conversation partner with a fascinatingly textured relief decorating her front._

_It is her twenty third errand that cycle. The Iolite will probably have her wait until she drafts a reply and send her right back, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll be sent off to collect sample lists from one of the new research stations. She’s yet to see them._

_She’d like that, she thinks._

-

 _Sandy_ it says on her name tag, in blue ink over grooves where she first pressed in with a sharp pencil. Smudged some, from where she ran her fingers over it just a bit too soon in her eagerness, as always, to touch. 

When she leaves her little bowl alone and lets the liquid settle, an odd sediment gathers, and when she swirls it around, this way, then that--

Fascinating. Soothing, maybe. And the miniature spheres it’s made from - _grapes_. The humans showed her, laughed when she took one of the little things between her fingers and popped it, making a mess.

One thing turning into another. Strange processes that her Lavender had known the explanation and the chemical formulae for somehow, and had offered it all gladly, because Sandy knew better than to ask.

Her other hand she runs through the little wisps of pale hair on Lavender’s neck, soothing and soft. One of her favourite sensations - the other, not having to hide. Not having to steal moments and wait and wonder, endlessly: _will I ever see you again?_

She lets go of the little wine bowl, setting it down next to the water cup and the mug of coffee and the odd conical container she’s forgotten the name of, bearing marks of melted ‘ice cream’ (not a very good container, honestly). Instead, she idly plays with the bits of gravel on the path she’s sitting on, and observes the gathering crowd.

So many Pearls here - most of them eager, all of them excited, aflutter in ways ranging from what only a fellow Pearl could recognise (tiny flickers of movement, fingers tangling in a dance) to loud, open displays. Most of them nervous, too.

And all of them very, very early.

Her grasp of Earth time is still somewhat tenuous, but she knows enough to tell that there’s quite a while to go until the scheduled start of class. The sun needs to be far lower in the sky, for one. 

But the warp pad nearby activates all of a sudden, and, ah-- their instructor for the day, the infamous Renegade Pearl, is early as well. Of course she’d know to be-- she’s just as much a Pearl as all of them. Sandy smiles at the odd thought, and moves to get up and gather her things.

She has time enough to get her little containers into her satchel and is picking up the wine bowl, left for last, when her vision is promptly filled with dark purple. Not even a “Look out--!” makes it out fully before one of the other Pearls crashes into her, and they both tumble to the ground.

-

_A large hand comes down around her, adjusts her limbs into position, smooths her hair, arranges the billowy ends of her appearance modifiers._

_“I have made you in my image with the greatest care. After all, it wouldn’t do for a master to be accompanied by anything less than a perfect representation of her craft, and I will not be overshadowed.”_

_Pearl says nothing. Stands, perfectly poised, unmoving. There is another pearl there, but she doesn’t turn to look at her. The colours on her don’t match the Gem before them both. So she is not relevant, at the moment._

_“I have given you my voice. My perfect spokesgem. An extension of me. How… useful, indeed.”_

_She remains quiet, and does not put this statement to the test._

_“Good. You will know when I want you to speak.”_

-

Spilled traces of a strange-smelling liquid, blending with her own dark red colouring, are the first things she makes sense of after her rather ungracious tumble. The second is another Pearl trying to drag them both back to their feet, all aflutter with apology.

“Oh no! I am so sorry, how clumsy of me! Here, let me just--”

She wants to shout that it’s _fine_ , get _away_ \-- as the other Pearl dabs at her front with a handkerchief produced not from her gem but from the little bag at her side. Instead she blurts out a very undignified “What _is_ this?” in a voice that has never been meant for anything but perfect dignity.

This makes the other Pearl - _Sandy_ , her tag proclaims her - stop, almost frozen, until she launches into a ramble. “The humans call it wine! They make it themselves. It’s a fascinating process, really, and the stages and byproducts are _wildly_ diverse--”

She tunes out the rest fairly quickly when her gaze drops down to the blank nametag on her own front. 

Unlike her, dear Blush got a nickname fairly quickly upon coming to Earth - a sweet disposition coupled with appealing colouration seems to have made it easy, somehow. But she herself has no idea how to approach this, not after centuries of self-effacement and obliteration of any sign of anything outside of what She wanted, what She needed. Her voice coming out of Pearl's throat because that is how She made her…

Pearl shudders, and very deliberately pushes the thoughts aside.

Her nametag is glaringly empty, deep purple-red stains aside, a strange bother even with all the assurances that there’s no rush whatsoever, that it’s fine to wait and put something meaningful there, that there is no pressure and, oh, should she want to change whatever she picked, that is of course _perfectly_ normal and fine--

She glances down at her arm, the now barely discernible stain the colour of the gem at the small of her back, then at all the Pearls milling about - not a blank nametag to be seen.

_Colour-based names are a very popular choice--_

_Earth phenomena you will become familiar with during your stay--_

_It doesn’t have to mean anything, whatever strikes your fancy--_

She grabs the pen she was given together with the tag and scrawls-- well, being a fine Pearl, even her scrawl is elegant cursive:

_Wine_

A small bubble of some giddy feeling rises in her, and the thought: _I need to show Blush._ She pushes forward with all the others, the entire group suddenly moving towards the classroom, noticing their teacher has arrived. And as if on cue, Blush is at her side. Quiet but warm. A familiar, comforting presence as they navigate yet another new Earth experience together, and move to find a seat in the auditorium.

The crowd is nothing if not spontaneously organised, Pearls lining up in a very orderly fashion. Wine, with Blush in tow, ends up next to the two from outside - Sandy, still bearing some traces of spilled wine on her skirt, and - Wine squints - _Lavender_. But before she can say a word and bring up the oddly significant incident from moments before, Blush takes her hand, and turns her attention to the improvised podium, where a very recognisable Pearl stands ready to speak.

“Welcome, everyone, to this year's Pearl Orientation class!” The Renegade is not terrifying at all, except perhaps in subtle, mere suggestions of things. The look of her entire, unique and somehow untouchable, bearing a strange sort of promise. It’s not the first time they’ve all seen her - she was there, handing out the nametags and offering helpful and not-so-helpful advice, and a chaotic selection of earthly writing implements. 

She waves her hands around happily as she talks, then clasps them in front of herself. “Now, I do not intend for this to be an _ex-cathedra_ type of class. Past experience has led to some, in my opinion, excellent methodology… very collaborative and horizontal! So while I am more than happy to provide advice and pointers and guidance, I in no way wish to present any kind of strict authority. How _ever_...”

The pause is brief but the excitement oddly real, and Wine feels herself want to lean forward in anticipation.

“I do have homework for you to start us off! That is, a small task for you to try to complete - not for anyone's benefit but your own. Your task is to go forth…” the Renegade's voice lowers dramatically, “...and deliberately _break a rule_! Tomorrow evening I would like to hear each of you give a report on your experiences doing this: consider your motivations and reasoning, and why you picked whatever you end up picking.”

A lavender hand shoots up next to Wine’s head with almost frightening speed. “Excuse me!”

“Yes, uh,” the Renegade’s eyes flick down to the nametag quickly, “Lavender?”

“I am completing the task. By refusing to do the _home work_.” Lavender states very matter-of-factly, unblinking gaze fixed on their instructor.

“I… that is-- well, quite creative, to be sure! Of course something like this crops up every so often - Pearls and the creative misinterpretation of orders, name a more iconic duo, ahaha!” She pauses at the blank stares. “It's, oh, just something Steven showed me. Never you mind. I think Lavender here has quite a grasp of things already, and I am excited to hear her contributions to the discussion tomorrow. Now, off you all go! Feel free to consult with myself or my assistant Volleyball here,” a pale pink Pearl turns to wave at them all from the front row, “if you have any concerns or questions at all.”

They file out - and Wine is certain it isn’t just her imagination - a little less orderly than before.

-

_Layer by layer, carefully applied. Perfectly aligned for perfect refraction, the exact hue and saturation at the exact angle. Not one light mote out of place._

_One final touch, that in some other, kinder universe might even be termed loving. An indelible mark of her creator, a signature. Proof of artistry. Guarantee of quality. A proclamation of superb craftsmanship for all to see and admire._

_And envy._

-

It’s when they’ve, still hand in hand, split away from the other Pearls, some way away from the classroom down the path towards the nearby cliffside, that Blush makes her move.

“I need your help. With the homework.”

“Oh?” Wine slows down, looking mildly curious.

“I need you to dissipate my form,” Blush states matter-of-factly.

“I… _What?_ ” The shock is perhaps a bit more severe than she’s anticipated.

“I want… I want the mark… gone.” Blush's voice is as soft as always, but with an underlining of something new and rather… steely. Determined. Like...

_Come away with me--_

Like the last time she took a... calculated risk with Wine ( _what a darling name,_ her mind supplies, _I was starting to worry she’d never-- for herself--_ ).

“I won’t be long,” Blush insists, “you know I won’t. Nobody will even realise--”

“ _I will_.”

It stops her cold, the passionate feeling in Wine’s voice, still straining to stay somewhat quiet, and the immense fear and concern in her eyes.

Wine reaches over to take her hand back in hers - the hand Blush hasn’t even realised she’s pressed to her neck. Hiding that precise, elegant little engraving, the burning reminder of her origin as a pretty little thing to be exhibited and gazed upon.

Despite the beautiful relief of the fact she doesn’t _have_ to anymore, Wine looks around them quickly, before pressing a gentle kiss where the hand had been. 

“If… if it bothers you so much…” She’s never heard Wine so hesitant before, so _small_. “A-- a scarf, maybe? No one will be able to see it! No one will know it’s there--”

“I will,” Blush echoes quietly. Deliberately. Her words hit _some_ mark, but she doesn’t get to know what it is.

“Oh! Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” It’s Sandy, walking up to them, quite unrepentant. “I just wanted to let you know I had an idea for our assignment - a place Lavender and I found… running around the area. You’re welcome to come with me if you want! I’m sure she’ll be coming as well, even though she’s done with the homework.” 

It sounds like pride, and it gives Blush a bit of pause.

“I’d love to go,” Blush acquiesces, very politely and sweetly. “Wouldn’t you, Wine?”

-

_It’s been three cycles since she’s last moved. A long lull in the endless sequence of Gems passing by the little desk pearl is stationed behind, still, unblinking, ready with whatever factoid they require for continued functioning and/or fulfilment of their duties._

_If someone was to ask her, if someone needed the information for some strange, unfathomable reason - she would say she far prefers the uneventful to the busy days. Just her, the flow of information at her fingertips, the incredible things she knows and that no one ever thinks to ask, and the quiet._

-

Lavender found the place, and many others, after taking off near-immediately upon exiting the ship and taking her first steps on Earth - she has no desire to be particularly still anymore. No more sitting around, waiting for another one of the _endless_ , inane questions, and waiting her entire existence away.

It’s a beach, not unlike the one near the Crystal Gems’ Temple, and not far from it either. This one, however, is surrounded by a tall wire fence, plastered with a variety of fairly threatening-looking signs.

She knows the sign above says “No Trespassing - Private Property” and the one right below “No Loitering” in the human script she absorbed with the lightning speed she absorbs any other tidbit of information with. She shared as much with Sandy immediately upon taking her to see it, just like she shares it with the two somewhat more lost-seeming Pearls now - and why not, especially after Sandy’s quite literal run-in with one of them earlier? All in all it seems ideal for this ‘home work’ business, in addition to being quite a lovely place.

Lavender doesn’t know how many grains of sand there are on this beach, but she knows Sandy would gladly bury her hands and run her fingers through all of them, and she knows it’d be a delight to watch.

She doesn’t know a lot of things, now. _She’s_ the one asking, sometimes. But it’s never really been about _knowing_. And Sandy, oh, Sandy always listens and never asks anything except, perhaps, a gentle _is this alright_?

It makes her feel like boasting, just a bit. And they’ve all been so awkwardly quiet on the way here, with barely a word as the four of them climbed to sit atop the highly forbidden fence.

“Sandy here--” she places a pale lavender hand on her shoulder, as Wine and Blush look over, “holds a record of both number of steps travelled _and_ distance as the Lapis Lazuli flies covered during her deliveries.”

“That sounds like an exaggeration, but if you say it, then I’m sure it’s a fact! That’s right, I’ve been all over Homeworld!” Sandy exclaims, rolling the Ls around her mouth. “Doing all my, hm, little errands. But I’ve never seen either of you around, you know-- before.”

Ah, the _before_. Lavender can see, in all her little tells like the quirk of her lips and the tilt of her chin, that Sandy regrets bringing it up almost immediately.

Wine clears her throat somewhat uncomfortably. “The Gem we… who made us… she wasn’t much of an entertainer.”

“That’s a shame.” There’s a soft, almost pitying look on Sandy’s face. But there’s a knowing note to it, too. “But at least… at least you had each other. And that’s rather the key, isn’t it?”

“It was for me,” Lavender agrees softly, and holds Sandy just a bit closer. There is a moment of quiet calm, as they listen to the waves lap at the shore.

“If you all don’t mind,” Sandy pipes up, giving Lavender’s hand a quick squeeze before hopping down, “I’m going to gift whichever human is in charge of monitoring this very off-limits area a sand castle. To highlight the _rule-breaking_ and all, you understand.”

Lavender nods sagely. “Of course. You go on ahead, I’ll be right there.”

She lingers a little ways down the beach, however, as she catches the snippets of a heartfelt conversation on the breeze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier… I like your name.” Blush whispers.

“I like _you_ ,” Wine insists back. “And I just think...” She hesitates, putting the words together carefully and deliberately, like Sandy aligning meticulously chosen pebbles on the path around her little sand moat, just up ahead.

“You were made with great care, and your creation was a point of pride-- maybe it doesn’t have to matter who it was by, or why. Not anymore. And I just think maybe _you_ should be the one who gets to enjoy it, now. Am I making any sense?”

“Maybe,” Blush echoes quietly.

“We may have all the time in the world, but I don’t want to miss a moment with you. But more importantly, I... I don’t think you should have to miss a moment of it, either.”

Lavender can’t help a smile as she turns to leave the two to their discussion. There is a deep current of feeling and meaning and figuring so much out running there, and it’s not her place - or anybody’s - to interfere. And besides, what for? They’re all of them doing an excellent job of breaking every rule imposed on Pearls from the moment of that first nacreous layer taking form.

The Earth sun is orange-red on the ocean, hanging low and dipping ever lower, as they perch on the fence, right above the signs.

  
  



End file.
